Part 2: Sasha Kelly

"Dude…you're a dude."

Sasha blinked at Dean as if there must be something wrong in the head with the elder Winchester. "Uh…yeah. Did I make you think otherwise?"

Dean and Sam both fell into non-syllables of dissent, because they had not at any point thought Sasha was going to be some hot hunter chick instead of a dude. Of course not.

"Nah…we just…"

"The letter…"

"And your name…"

"So we kinda…yeah."

"Right."

Dean looked at Sam and grimaced. Real smooth, he said with his eyes. Sam's expression back to him clearly agreed. Dean returned his attention to Sasha, politely putting his gun away since the other man had already done the same. "Never mind," he said, in lieu of their rambling, "Misunderstandings all around."

"Yeah," Sasha said, "Sorry again about…the gun, and the threats. I sort of wasn't expecting you for another hour."

Sam bucked Dean in the shoulder, giving him a look that said, "Told you."

Dean ignored him. "No big deal. We would have done the same. Hunter life, itchy trigger fingers, ya know?" It was obvious Dean was uncomfortable, but he couldn't seem to hide it or brush it off as easily as usual.

"Well…I wanted to meet here so you guys could get a look at the place, but there's really not more to see," Sasha said, pretending not to notice that Dean and Sam both looked like mortified school boys, "There's a place around the corner we could go to discuss things. Unless…you want to look around more?"

Again, the brothers slipped into rambling words that didn't quite compliment each other.

"No…"

"That's fine…"

"Didn't really…"

"We don't need…"

"I was just…uh…"

"Trying to…"

"Right."

"Yeah."

Great. Now they sounded like idiots and amateurs.

They were pleasantly surprised when Sasha just laughed. "How about I buy first round? See if we can get those tongues untied," he said, and his good humor made the Winchesters instantly relax. He was like an entirely different person without a gun pointed at them. His fierce expression was pleasant now, cheerful even, the kind of guy you want to go out drinking with coz they don't know how to be anything but fun.

Dean's jealousy over Sasha's leather jacket began to turn into admiration. Even the over-conditioned red hair didn't bother him so much anymore.

Sasha's brow furrowed and he pointed back and forth between the two. "Uh…which one is which? Sorry."

With a chuckle, Sam flashed his boyish smile, ensuring they would now all be friends until the end of eternity. It was a trick Dean could only ever master on the female species, but Sam seemed to manage with anyone. "I'm Sam," Sam said.

"Dean," said Dean.

Sasha nodded. "Nice to meet you. Shall we?" He moved passed them for the door, clearly expecting them to follow. For a few moments they didn't, didn't even move.

Dean shook his head, dreams summarily crushed for a good rump with a hottie hunter. He was put off even more when Sam patted him on the back with all the good nature of a backstabbing bastard and said, "He's all yours."

Dean blanched. "What?"

"Hey, you called dibs. I wouldn't dream of standing in the way."

Sam was being so overly sincere that Dean was about ready to punch him.

"I don't consider myself that good of judge in this area, but…he is pretty hot."

"Oh shut up," Dean growled, and pushed the arm Sam had slipped around his shoulders very roughly away from him.

A few moments later they were out in the hallway with Sasha, Sam beaming and completely at ease while Dean tried unsuccessfully to keep the heat of embarrassment from rising in his cheeks.

"A chapacubra? Man, those things fight dirty."

"You're telling me," Dean agreed, remembering the run-in he and Sam had had not too long ago. Or maybe it was a long time ago. It had been…months, hadn't it? "Time sure goes fast for guys like us," Dean said, voicing his thoughts aloud and taking a swig of round two, which Sasha had also paid for.

Dean regretted his words immediately, because a glance at Sam showed how his words had been taken. Time sure goes fast. Too fast. In less than a year Dean could be dead. Sam didn't need to be reminded of that tonight, not when they were having such a good time, all three of them, amidst their drinks and stories. Sam wasn't usually the type to have a good time this way, but tonight he was.

Dean forced a laugh and managed to make it sound almost completely real. "But hey, sometimes a hunt feels like forever too, right?"

Oblivious to what had passed between the brothers, Sasha laughed in kind, "I know just what you mean. And this hunt is one of them. Been here since after the second kill and still nothing. Now there are five dead girls and nothing more to go on then what I started with. I really appreciate you coming to help."

Happy, just as Dean was, to forget the ill-worded reminder of Dean's imminent death, Sam gave Sasha a friendly smile. There was no reason this hunter needed to be dragged into their business. "We're happy to. Ellen said you were a good hunter. Trustworthy. Just…" Sam trailed off.

Just what? Dean was as interested in what Sam was about to say as Sasha was. He hadn't been the one to talk to Ellen after all.

"Just…that you don't usually work with other hunters. Ever. She said that was the only weird thing about it." Sam sounded concerned but not distrustful of Sasha. He had that amazing way of making people feel at ease even when he was accusing them of something.

Dean was listening intently while he downed the rest of his beer, already thinking about having another, but more interested in hearing this play out. He liked Sasha. That had switched in his brain pretty quickly after their initial confrontation, even after Sam's barbs about Dean calling dibs. A fellow hunter Dean could share a beer with and have a good time, who wasn't about to turn out to be another Gordon if Ellen had said he could be trusted, was a welcome companion.

There weren't many people Dean considered friends. He wished things could be different for Sam, but he knew the same was starting to be true for him too. It wasn't easy keeping track of a normal life when the real one you lived was so messed up.

Sasha shifted in his seat a little. His leather jacket, a lot like Dean's really only darker and not quite as long, was hanging over the back of his chair, leaving him in jeans and a faded blue T-shirt that stretched over his chest to prove he was definitely as fit as Sam and Dean.

"She's right. I work alone. Always." It was clearly difficult for him to say this but he didn't look like he was about to lie or try to hide anything, just like he had answered these questions before and never enjoyed doing it again. "I don't…trust other hunters. Never have."

"Because of your dad," Sam said, and it wasn't a question. The sincere 'I'm here for you' version of his puppy eyes had taken over full force.

Dean tried not to giggle. Sam looked so ridiculous like that.

Sasha didn't seem surprised by Sam's statement. Apparently he was used to other hunters knowing about his father. That made sense to Dean. Those stories were legendary.

"Deklin Kelly," Sasha confirmed, "Everyone knows his name. Everyone knows the things he did. But no one knows what made one of his best friends kill him in cold blood like some kind of animal."

Venom. Dean recognized the sound of it from having heard it in his own voice so often.

Sasha clutched his beer bottle too tightly, making his knuckles white. "He trusted that man, and…a friend killed my parents like it was nothing."

"Parents?" Sam repeated. He glanced at Dean and the brothers both sat up straighter.

"Most people don't know that part," Sasha said with a bitter smile, "That's why most people don't know about me. They were only married a little over a year. I was…three months old? Less? I don't know. I can't even picture them in my head. I don't have any memories of them at all. He killed them both. So no, I don't work with other hunters."

Sam and Dean shared confused looks, wondering for a brief moment if this was some elaborate trick and that their beer had actually been poisoned. Sam tried to find words, "Then…why…?"

"Why you? Why now? Because this is the first time I've ever been this stuck on a case. And the two of you are the only ones that might actually be worth trusting. We can understand each other, I think. A lot in common." Sasha raised his beer as if in toast to their mutual dead parents and took another swig.

Dean chuckled and it was as bitter as Sasha's smile. "No lie there, pal. But I still don't see how that makes us trustworthy. Not if you think all hunters have the potential to stab you in the back."

Sasha set his now empty beer on the table and it clattered loudly. He looked worried if Dean was reading him right, but again, not like he was about to lie, just like he wasn't fond of what he had to say. "Before she took my letter, Ellen made me promise that I wouldn't keep any details about this case or why I wanted the two of you a secret. And I don't plan to." Sasha's eyes steadied on the brothers. "I met Gordon Walker a few months back," he said, "He was recruiting. Not to work with him, just to help the cause, as he put it. He said something big was coming, and that the only way to stop it was to kill off the potential soldiers in a battle against demons. Soldiers with powers. Soldiers that would fight with the demons instead of with us."

Both Winchesters had the foresight to look wary. They didn't like where this was heading at all.

Sasha didn't seem dangerous or threatening towards them, but it was the calmness in his tone that made them wonder what he was really thinking. "Said you were target number one, Sam. The most dangerous of the dangerous. Said the most important thing a hunter could do right now was make sure you ended up dead."

The noise in the bar seemed to die, as if everyone was waiting on what Sasha would say next.

"Me?" Sasha said, "I didn't buy that for a second." He leaned back a little in his chair, smiling.

Dean wanted so badly to believe those words, that smile, because he had already counted Sasha among his list of decent people in the world, and he didn't want to be proven wrong again. Next to him, he could tell Sam was still tense.

"Word travels fast, Sam," Sasha continued, "The other soldiers have vanished from the map, leaving only you. The hunters Gordon talked to could be gearing up to take you down right now. But Ellen trusts you. Ellen doesn't doubt you for a second. I'm inclined to feel the same. I don't know what you are, or what you can do, and I don't expect you to tell me a damn thing about it. You're not obligated to. But I know what it's like to feel as if all the people out there who know the real world, our world, are against you. That's what we have in common, Sam, Dean. You can't afford to trust other hunters right now, and I never have. Maybe, in a weird way, that means we can trust each other better than anyone."

Round about logic, and yet to Dean it made perfect sense. Sam was starting to relax too, but they both knew better than to just take someone they didn't know at their word. All they had to go on besides liking Sasha's company was that Ellen said he was okay. While Gordon came with a warning, Sasha simply had a tendency to work alone. And with his past that made sense. Dean and Sam could both respect a decision like that.

"I'll let you think it over," Sasha said, understanding that the gears were still spinning in both Winchester's heads. He got up from the table and gathered their empty bottles. "One more free round, boys. Next one's yours." He winked and left the table for the bar, leaving Sam and Dean to discuss things alone.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well him," Sam pressed, "Sasha."

"I like him," Dean said honestly.

"Me too," said Sam.

"So?"

"So…we watch our backs but give him the benefit of the doubt?"

For once Sam was actually talking sense. "Just what I was thinking, Sammy-boy." He turned to his brother and grinned, "Things gotta turn up roses once in a while, right?" he said, bringing up what he had mentioned last night, "People lie so often, turn out to be bad news so damn often, there's gotta be a good guy in the mix somewhere."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. He had to agree. He wanted to believe it so badly.

"And he did buy three rounds of beer. Guy like that can't be all bad."

Sam laughed. "I always admire your logic, Dean."

"Thanks," Dean said, slapping Sam a little harder than necessary on the back.

"And…?"

"And?" Dean thought things were settled, "And what?"

"My abilities. Do we tell him?"

"He didn't ask us to."

"But…"

"Show of good faith?" Dean scoffed, "Look, we like the guy, we think we can trust him, but there's no reason to go being idiots only to find out later that we made the wrong choice. We've made that mistake before."

Sam snorted. That was sure as hell true.

"If we have to tell him, we will," Dean continued, "And if not, we won't. He doesn't need to know anything. Hell, sounds like he knows more than we do."

"I guess…"

"What?" Now Dean was getting angry. The last time Sam had a look like this on his face, all concerned and biting his lip, Gordon had turned out to be a psycho.

Sam shook his head as if trying to clear away cobwebs. "I have this…feeling."

Now Dean was worried. "About Sasha?"

"I don't…think so."

"About the case?"

Sam nodded.

"That's why we're here, Sammy, remember? Coz something isn't right. And hey, if things go well, we might gain ourselves an ally. Could come in handy if those other hunters really start…"

"Yeah."

Neither of them wanted to actually say it. If the other hunters came for them. If the other hunters came to kill Sam.

The brothers were still quiet when Sasha got back to the table. He passed each of them another beer, Blue Moon, with the caps off and ready. "So how'd I do?" Sasha said, grinning wide, "I pass? You guys sticking around?"

Dean glanced back at the bar and saw the way the female bartender and two girls at the counter were looking after Sasha. He figured he knew what Sasha was grinning about.

He liked the guy even more.

"With flying colors, buddy," Dean said, offering his new beer for Sasha to clink. Sasha did so and Sam brought his up to do the same. "You'll understand if we keep a few things to ourselves?" Dean added.

"Already said so," Sasha confirmed. He looked at Sam, giving an assuring nod. "If you want to tell me something, Sam, feel free, but I won't ask you to. I understand how…some things are best kept to yourself."

Dean and Sam both nodded at that. There were plenty of things they weren't ready to explain or say aloud, even to themselves.

"So, ready to talk more about the case?" Sasha asked, managing much better than Dean would have at forgetting whatever happened at the bar.

Things had been tough lately for the Winchesters. Things had been tough for the last two years. For the last twenty. Dean wasn't ready to talk business again just yet. "The night's still young," he said, taking a long drink of Blue Moon. He had never had it before, but he had the feeling it could become a new favorite.

Next to Dean, Sam's face flickered for a moment with worry. He never was the partying type, more concerned with getting a job done quickly instead of letting himself live along the way. Dean was still working on getting that out of Sam's system, and he figured Sasha could be a good accomplice in seeing that through.

And indeed, just as Dean hoped, his suggestion was taken by Sasha with a mirrored smirk. A fellow hunter, young as them and not a homicidal psycho? Dean couldn't help himself.

"Ever try a Purple Nurple?"

Hours later and after several equally paid for rounds of various liqueur, the Winchesters had run out of hunter stories and were enjoying hearing Sasha's.

Despite hunting alone, Sasha seemed to gain quite a few acquaintances each time he went somewhere, which only proved to impress Dean more. It sounded like this guy could really give him a run for his money in the charm department. Dean almost felt like testing it out in a bet or something, but didn't want to risk getting his pride bruised.

"It was a pretty big shock," Sasha was saying, having just given the punch-line to a particularly entertaining tale.

Sam looked sick. "Right there in bed with you?" he said.

"Yep. I knew something was wrong once we started in, ya know? But I…sort of chose to ignore it."

Dean chuckled.

Sam gave his brother a look, probably thinking that was something Dean would do, but instead of feeling annoyed like he would if that had been Dean, Sam chuckled too. "So what'd you do?" Sam asked.

"What else could I do? I chased the damn thing til my legs burned, right out into the street."

Dean barked a laugh. "Naked?"

"Didn't have time to dress now, did I? Thing had my shotgun."

Both brothers got a good laugh over that. "So obviously you caught up to it and killed it," Sam said.

"Sure. Course by the time I was ready to head back to the hotel I'd already been picked up for indecent exposure. Spent the night in jail, wearing some greasy hand-me-downs they had lying around. Awful."

"Ouch, man," Dean laughed, loving this story as much as if it had happened to him. Of course, he probably wouldn't be laughing then, unless it had happened to Sam and he had been given the pleasure of bailing his brother out, "That sucks."

"Just imagine how fun it was cleaning up the damn thing's shed skin out of the bedclothes when I finally got back."

Dean shuddered. "I hate shapeshifters."

Sasha took a long drink of Sapporo, which he had insisted Sam and Dean try. "At least you never slept with one."

That was a definite plus, Dean decided.

They finished off their Sapporo's, which really equaled two beers if not more, and Sasha asked if they were ready for another round.

"I don't know," Sam said, looking tired and even a little nauseous, "It's been great, and I know we need to let ourselves have fun once in a while, okay, but I think I should start heading for the motel." Realization dawned on Sam's face then.

They had been at the bar all night, ate nachos and pizza for dinner form the bar's kitchen, went through more booze than Sam had had in a long time, and all the while he and Dean completely forgot one of the number one rules of being on a hunt.

"Dean, we forgot to get rooms!"

For a moment, Dean and Sam's expressions of panic were identical.

Laughter sounded from beside them, but as much as they liked Sasha they didn't find this at all funny.

Sasha took notice of their twin glares and quickly held his hands up in defense. "Whoa. Not laughing at you, boys. Laughing coz there's nothing to worry about. I called you here. Figured it was the least I could do to pay for your room. Got you one with two singles right next to mine. Place isn't far."

A wave of relief washed over the brothers' faces, and Dean gave Sasha a friendly smack on the back. "Dude, you are awesome."

A sideways grin and a shrug replied, as if to say, 'yeah, what can I say.' Dean could really relate to this guy. Sam seemed to be able to too, which was a welcome paradox. With Sasha you just sort of had to like him.

Drunk enough to find just about anything funny as the last of that Sapporo kicked in, Dean started giggling to himself while staring at Sasha's hair. "Dude," he said between chuckles, "Where did you find the box that stuff came in? It looks like a frickin' fire engine."

Even Sam had been drinking enough to find that funny. The brothers laughed heartily. The very idea of one of them having hair like that was plain ridiculous. It was ridiculous for any hunter. The last thing Sasha was with that hair was inconspicuous.

Sasha didn't laugh, but his grin was wide. He had clearly been ribbed about his hair before and took the joke in stride.

"What box?" he said finally, "This is my natural color."

This got Dean and Sam laughing even harder. "Nice trick with the eyebrows, man, but you're not fooling anyone," Dean said.

"Oh really?" There was something predatory in Sasha's eyes they hadn't seen before, but because both brothers were thoroughly sloshed they didn't know whether to take it seriously or not, "Well, Mr. Dean Winchester, I could prove it to you," he grinned, giving Dean a playful once over, "But I don't think that would be appropriate in public." Sasha finished with a wink, an action he was particularly good at, and headed to the bar to acquire that promised next round.

Dean was dying of laughter now, but Sam's had started to filter off. He stared after Sasha, forgetting that he was supposed to be protesting this next round in honor of the hangover he would have tomorrow.

Not understanding Sam's sudden silence, Dean slapped him on the back, startling Sam to attention. "Wakey, wakey, Sammy-boy. What's up?" Just when they were relaxed and having a good time Sam had to go and look serious.

Apparently, enough alcohol was running through Sam's veins to override that look of intent thought. He busted out laughing.

Now Dean was really confused. "What?"

It was more than Sam could handle from the looks of things, whatever it was that had him in stitches. "Dean," Sam tried, but the laughter made his words slur even more than the drinks he had had, "He…Sasha…he was totally hitting on you. Hahaha..." Sam was almost doubled over in his chair by the time he got those words out.

Dean's instincts shut his own laughter down, and his eyes went immediately to Sasha up at the bar. The bartender was still the same girl as before, and if Dean wasn't mistaken she was passing Sasha what suspiciously looked like a phone number over the surface of the counter. Sasha couldn't have looked more pleased.

That was it. Sam wasn't just drunk. He had gone completely insane.

"I'm gonna feel this in the morning," Sam groaned, falling back onto his bed without even taking off his shoes.

Dean snickered. "Light weight."

Sam didn't disagree. He looked ready to fall asleep any minute.

"We got our day lined up. We even talked about the case over that plate of nachos. No regrets on my end." Dean kicked his own shoes off and tossed his coat onto a nearby chair. The motel was nicer than most they stayed in, which was fine, since they didn't have to pay.

Dean fell back onto the bed, much as Sam had. He knew he should brush his teeth, but he couldn't find the motivation to move. For once things were actually going well. They still weren't sure what was up with this case—an incubus still seemed most likely—but they had made a friend. And with as often as that happened, Dean felt entirely accomplished.

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

tbc...

A/N: Look at me go. I can't help but love this story and where I plan to take it (or rather where the characters plan to take me). Thanks for the reviews so far. More are always encouraged. Hope you stick with me.

Crim